


More Trouble Than We're Worth

by Tel



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Barrayar, Filk, Gen, Tel's Filk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tel/pseuds/Tel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the Betan academic publication "Seditious Folk Songs of the Barrayaran Imperium, Vol. 1"</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Trouble Than We're Worth

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote at Conflikt, to the tune of a Russian filk (Na ForKon) by Dono that I couldn't get out of my head. The original belongs to the class of "songs about how awesome the current con is". A couple of lines are shortened compared to the original tune.
> 
> It's about hillfolk. And their issues.

When the maple leaves are fallen  
and the rivers all are frozen  
there's a score of fearsome riders  
who set off to ride the hills  
Hide your goats and winter foodstores  
hide your wives and virgin daughters  
(for) the taxman is a-roving and no honest serf is safe!

  He's our Count, he's our Count  
  wearing swords and on a mount  
  high-born lord of Barrayar  
  taking tribute from the hills  
  He's our Count, he's our Count  
  none of us have any doubt  
  that we'd certainly be better off without...

Now he claims he needs our taxes  
but we'll fend him off with axes  
and two dozen trees across the road  
will surely bar his way  
We'll tell him the nearest whorehouse  
is a dozen valleys over  
(and) there's nothing here but hillfolk, we're more trouble than we're worth!

[chorus]

Well he says he will defend us  
from the dreadful Count Vorinnis  
but we know that quarrel started  
in a violent drunken brawl  
in a salon by the palace  
when he cheated in a chess match  
Why do they steal our mead when they can't handle it at all!

[chorus]

Now the harvest has been meager  
but his grasping hands are eager  
and he'll feed his horses grain  
while he expects us to eat hay  
Our own thieves at least are honest  
They don't leave us so impoverished  
what's his is his, what's ours is his, let's poach another deer!

  He's our Count, he's our Count  
  wearing swords and on a mount  
  high-born lord of Barrayar  
  taking tribute from the hills  
  He's our Count, he's our Count  
  none of us have any doubt  
  that we'd certainly be better off without...

(...why -is- he our Count?)


End file.
